"The pressure is on."
She laughed. "You like pressure. You like it when it counts."
"I do," he said, appreciating how well she knew him. "I also like to be prepared."
"Right. I think there are some dusty condoms in the bathroom, but—"
He cut her off with a kiss. "I've got it," he said, pulling out his wallet. He took out two condoms and tossed them on the nightstand. He'd been carrying them around since he'd met Chelsea. Then he reached for the hem of her top, pulling it over her head.
She shook her hair free as he tossed the top on the bed. Her beautiful breasts spilled out of her bikini top, and he impatiently reached for the back hook, then pushed the straps off her shoulder.
She gave him a shy but also eager look. He liked that she could be sexy and sweet at the same time. It was a breath-stealing combination and right now he was having trouble sucking in air.
"Touch me," she whispered.
"I don't want to go too fast."
"You like to go fast. I want to fly with you, Brodie. Don't hold back."
Her words released what was left of his control. He gave her a hungry kiss, as he cupped her breasts. He slid his mouth down the side of her neck—a path of pure pleasure. Then he dropped his mouth to one rosy nipple. She threw back her head, a sigh of pleasure escaping her lips as he teased her nipple with his tongue.
"Brodie," she murmured.
He loved hearing his name on her lips. He ran his hands down to her hips, unknotting the tie of her skirt.
As it fell away, he reached for her bikini bottom, wanting to see all of her.
She shimmied out of the skimpy thong and he didn't think he'd seen a more beautiful woman in his life. "You are so pretty."
"I'm also way ahead of you when it comes to clothes being off," she said with a more confident smile.
"Let me catch up." He ripped his shirt over his head and pushed down his shorts and briefs.
"Nice," she said, a breathless note in her voice.
"Do you want to just look?" he teased.
"God, no." She ran her hands down his chest.
Before she could go any further, he pressed his mouth against hers, backing her toward the bed. As she fell onto the soft mattress, he came down on top of her. He wanted to take his time, but his body had other ideas, and so did hers. Impatience and need grew with each fiery kiss, each hungry touch, each gasp of passion.
And then they were both flying.
He held on to her with a tight grip, not wanting her to fall or crash, not wanting her to hurt in any way.
The sentiment went far beyond the moment, but foolishly he thought if they just kept flying, nothing bad could happen.
"That was amazing," Chelsea said.
He rolled onto his side but kept his arm around her.
She turned to face him, her smile reinforcing what she'd just said. "Was that what it felt like to ski down the side of a mountain?"
He grinned. "It was better."
"Maybe I should take up skiing."
"I think you'd like it."
"Or I'd be terrified."
"You have more courage than you believe."
"People keep telling me that."
"But you have to believe it; it doesn't matter what anyone else says."
She gave him a loving look. "I feel like you know me so well."
"We're a lot alike."
"Are we?"
"I think so."
"I do, too, but it's strange. We're not from each other's world. You've never followed country music, and I think I've caught maybe two ski races on television in my entire life."
He ran his fingers down her spine. "We both know what it means to dream big, to put it all on the line, to risk everything for the performance."
"And we both know what it feels like to fail."
He didn't like the somber gleam coming into her eyes. "Hey, we're back up on our feet, right?"
"I felt that way today for the first time in forever."
"It's just the beginning." This was probably the moment where he should bring up possible changes in his future, but he couldn't find the words.
She suddenly sat up. "Oh, no."
"What?" he asked with alarm, wondering what had changed her expression so drastically in the last few seconds.
She gave him a pained look. "Lady Jane. I left food out for her earlier today, but I was going to check on her when I got back. I also need to clean the litter box. I better do it now."
"Now? Wait." He put a hand on her arm as she moved to get out of bed. "I'll do it."
"It's my job."
"I don't want you over there alone at this time of night."
"It's not even ten. I was crawling around your bushes in the middle of the night only last week."
"Still, I'd feel better if you let me do it."
"Brodie—"
"It's done," he said, getting out of bed. He pulled on his shorts. "But one question."
"What's that?" she asked.
"Should I go home after I feed the cat, or should I come back?"
She gave him a slow, sexy smile. "Do you really have to ask?"
"I'll be back as soon as I can."
"I'll be waiting."
As Brodie left, Chelsea pulled the covers up and snuggled into her bed, letting herself happily savor the memories of being with him. It had been so easy, so right. There had been no awkward moments, no wishing he'd touch her here or there, because he'd touched her here, there and everywhere. He'd been generous and passionate and just thinking about being with him again made her shiver with desire.
She felt like she'd come alive. She'd broken free of her cocoon. She was a butterfly now. She was free. Her world was filled with colors again.
It was joyous. It was terrifying
Her old depressive mantra came back to haunt her: Bad always follows good.
Not this time, she told herself forcefully. She was going to hang on to the good.
As long as she could…
She knew Brodie had wanted to talk about his job offer. But she hadn't wanted to hear about it, and she still didn't want to hear about it. She wanted to just stay in this happy moment, this place of joy and contentment.
The words ran around in her head. She could hear the chords, too.
A song was coming.
She'd heard bits of it before when she'd first kissed Brodie.
It was about finding herself, about finding love.
She slid out of bed, grabbed her bathrobe off the hook in her closet and put it on. Then she walked over to the desk and pulled out a notepad. All the pages were empty. Those empty pages had mocked her before. Now they felt welcoming.
She wrote down what she heard in her head, a torrent of thoughts and emotions. She didn't know how they would go together, but they were seeds that could bloom with care and tending.
But as she stared at what she'd written, she frowned.
What was she doing? She wasn't going to sing again. She didn't need to write a song. She didn't need to tend these seeds. They weren't going to bloom into anything.
She was about to rip up the page when she heard the front door close. A moment later, Brodie came up the stairs and into the room.
"You're not in bed," he said with surprise.
"I—no," she said, getting up from the desk. "How was Lady Jane?"
"Hungry but fine."
"I left a bigger plate for her at lunchtime, but maybe it wasn't enough. Now I feel bad."
"She's okay. You don't need to worry." He crossed the room and put his hands on her shoulders, giving her a look that made her shiver. "Now, where were we?"
"I don't remember. You'll have to remind me."
"Hmm, I have a few ideas." He pulled her hair back and then ran his tongue around the edge of her ear.
She literally melted under that hot caress. "I don't remember that from before."
"Well, I might have a few more tricks up my sleeve."
"As long as the sleeves
come off, I'm okay with your tricks," she said, tugging on his shirt.
He pulled off his shirt, then helped her off with her robe and backed her up against the wall.
Excitement ran through her as his hand slid between her legs and his mouth covered hers in a possessive, passionate kiss.
And just like that, the real world slid happily away.
When Chelsea woke up on Monday morning, she was surprised to find herself alone in bed. She was also disappointed. She'd had all kinds of ideas for sexy wake-up calls for Brodie, but the shower was running, so Brodie was clearly awake.
She ran her hands through her tangled hair as the shower went off and Brodie came back to the room with only a towel around his hips. Beads of water clung to his broad chest and as one drop slid down his abs, she had to fight the urge to scoop it up with her tongue.
Brodie's gaze darkened. "Don't start," he warned.
"What did I do?"
"You know."
"Why don't you come back to bed?" She patted the mattress next to her.
"I wish I could," he said, leaning over to give her a kiss. "But I have to get to work."
"You taste like toothpaste."
"I found a new toothbrush in your cabinet. I owe you."
"After last night, I think I owe you."
"Good, then I'll plan on collecting—maybe tonight."
"That seems like a long time from now."
"I agree." He gave her a regretful look. "You are so beautiful, Chelsea."
"Not right this second."
"Oh, definitely right this second." He kissed her again, his lips lingering on hers. "I'm going to miss you today."
"I thought you'd be sick of me by now."
"Not even a little bit."
"Do you have any time? I could make you breakfast."
"I'm sorry; I can't." He let the towel drop, as he pulled on his clothes, and she couldn't help but stare.
"Enjoying the show?" he teased.
"I like it better when the clothes come off."
"So do I—especially when your clothes are coming off."
She smiled, thinking how much she'd missed this kind of intimate banter. Brodie walked over to the desk and picked up his keys, just as his phone buzzed. He pulled it out of the pocket of his shorts and read a text, his expression lighting up.
"Good news," he said, looking up at her with a happy grin.
"Tell me."
"Kevin's injuries are not life threatening. He does need surgery, so he'll be in Germany for at least a week. Chloe's in-laws are coming to Whisper Lake to watch Leo, so Chloe can fly out to meet Kevin."
"That is incredible news. I'm so happy for the whole family."
"Do you know Kevin?" Brodie asked curiously, as he put his phone back in the pocket of his shorts.
"Not really, but I've heard so much about him, I feel like I know him. It's good that Kevin's parents are coming so Chloe can fly to Germany. Maybe it's better if they have a little time alone." She paused. "I'm surprised you got the text."
"I'm sure you did, too. It's to the whole group."
"Right. My phone is downstairs. I usually put it on my nightstand, but we were in a hurry when we came upstairs."
"We certainly were." He drew in a breath as he faced her once more. "I don't really want to leave."
A rush of warmth ran through her. "Want to call in sick?"
"Would you call in sick?"
She hesitated. "I want to say yes, but there are only a few days left of school, and it's late to get a sub."
"We better be responsible then."
"Sometimes responsibility is no fun."
"How about dinner tonight?"
"Sounds good. I'll stop at the store on my way home and pick up something to make."
"I feel like it's my turn to cook for you. But I'm not very good. It's pretty much spaghetti or scrambled eggs."
"I like to cook. Don't worry about it."
He came back to the bed and kissed her again, letting his mouth linger, as if he were savoring every last second. Then he got up and moved across the room. He paused in the doorway, giving her an odd look.
"What?" she asked, confused by his expression.
"I just have to ask—have you been writing a song?"
She stiffened as her gaze moved to the desk. "That's nothing. It's not a song; it's just words."
"You said you hadn't written anything since you quit."
"Like I said, it's not a song. It's just thoughts, random thoughts."
"All right. At the risk of pissing you off, I have to say one thing—it would be fine if you were writing a song. No judgment either way. I'll call you later. Have a good day."
"You, too."
As he left the room, she got up and threw on her robe once more. She moved over to the desk, thinking she'd tear up the page, something she'd meant to do last night. But as the phrases jumped out at her, a damned melody came into her head.
She set the notebook down and went down to the kitchen to make coffee. Maybe once she had her head together, she could find the will to rip up that page and shove the notes out of her head.
Or maybe she'd want to write some more. Unfortunately, opening up her heart to Brodie had allowed other emotions to come in, too, and she didn't know what to do with them.
Not write them down, she told herself. Not sing.
There were some roads she couldn't go down again.
Chapter Twenty-One
Brodie made a quick stop at his house to change his clothes then drove across town to the station. Once there, he changed into his uniform, and downed a large mug of coffee and two protein bars. He hadn't gotten a lot of sleep last night, but his exhaustion this morning had been totally worth it.
After roll call, he got into his patrol car and drove toward his assigned beat. There were four other cops on patrol this morning, as well as two detectives back at the station, one of those being Adam Cole.
He hadn't talked to Adam. He'd been on his phone when he arrived, and Brodie hadn't felt like interrupting him. He felt a little awkward talking to Adam after sleeping with his sister. Not that Adam seemed to have a problem with him seeing Chelsea. He'd told him yesterday that he was happy that someone was looking out for Chelsea who she felt she could trust. He'd assured Adam that Chelsea could definitely trust him.
He still believed that, but there was a small part of him that felt guilty for not having told Chelsea more about his plans to go to LA. He'd tried, but not very hard. He'd wanted to be with her, and that need had driven everything else out of his head.
It wasn't too late, though. They could talk tonight. And it wasn't as if anything was a done deal. He might hate everything he heard in LA, and that would be the end of any plan to change his career.
Thinking about careers took his mind back to the notebook he'd seen on Chelsea's desk. She'd been writing a song. Maybe they were only fragments of phrases, but they were there, and she'd jotted down chords as well. Her guard walls were crumbling, not just with him, but also with music. It was creeping back into her life.
He wondered if she would come to a moment when she would wish she hadn't quit.
If she did wish that, would she want to go back? Would she be the one to leave Whisper Lake?
Their parallel tracks had crossed last night. But would they end up going their separate ways? That thought didn't make him at all happy.
As a white van sped past him, he started. The van reminded him of Travis's drawing, and a bad feeling ran through him. He made a quick turnaround at the next intersection, but by the time he got back on the road, there was no sign of the vehicle. He drove down alleys and slowly around the park, but the van had disappeared.
He changed directions once more, heading back to his beat. Then he saw the smoke.
Dammit!
He floored the gas, pulling over with a squeal of brakes in front of a one-story structure with smoke pouring out of the roof. He called in the fire to dispatch, and then jumped out of his patrol
car to speak to a gray-haired woman who was standing on the sidewalk, holding a small dog.
"I just called 9-1-1," she said. "You got here fast."
"Anyone inside?"
"No. The house has been vacant for months. I heard a big bang like a firecracker. I live next door. It scared me and Gus here. When I looked out the window, I saw the smoke and ran outside. You don't think it will jump to my house, do you?"
"There's no wind," he said quickly, reassuring her. "The fire should be contained to this house." He could see the flames lighting up the living room windows. "Are you sure the home is empty?"
"Positive. An older man lived here for the last forty years, but he passed away five months ago, and his grandson put it up for sale. As you can see, it's not in great condition, so there haven't been any offers."
"Did you happen to see a white van in the area?"
She gave him a startled look. "You mean, like those delivery vans?"
"Could have been. It might have had a flower on the side."
"I don't know. I don't think so. But I see delivery vans all the time. Why? Do you think the fire was set on purpose? Like those other fires?"
He didn't answer as a fire engine came down the street, followed by a red SUV driven by the battalion chief. He moved down the sidewalk as the chief came toward him.
"The neighbor says the house is empty," he reported.
"Good," the chief said tersely, firing off instructions to the firefighters.
As the firefighters attacked the fire from all directions, another woman came down the sidewalk.
"I'm Dana Larson," she said. "I live across the street. Do you know what happened, Officer?"
"Not yet. Did you see anyone around this house in recent days?"
"No. The old man who lived there died a while ago," she said, confirming what the other woman had already told him.
"What about a white van? Have you seen a white van on the street, perhaps one with a flower logo on the side?"
Her eyes widened. "A white van? You mean like the one Craig Robbins drives?"
His gut clenched. Craig Robbins was Janet's son. He didn't want the son of his grandfather's girlfriend to be involved in this. "Craig Robbins lives around here?" he forced himself to ask.
My Wildest Dream: Whisper Lake #2 Page 20
